A Hughesian Portrayal of Teenage Romance
by OnlyOneLover
Summary: "Back in high school, sometimes I would wish that my life was like an eighties movie." He looked back into Blaine's eyes and said without hesitation, "then I met you." Kurt&Blaine sweetness! Rated T for a scene of mild intimacy.


**I find it hard not to get emotional during the cinematic excellence of a good 80s movie. A few months ago I had an experience similar to the one I am about to write about with my boyfriend at the time, and thought that if I replaced he and I with Kurt and Blaine, it would make for a super sweet little story! I hope you enjoy it!**

**A Hughesian Portrayal of Teenage Romance**

A soft shock traveled from Blaine Anderson's lethargically searching hand to his weary, tired eyes when he realized that the mattress next to him was simply that: mattress. Subconsciously, his hand began searching more anxiously. Alas, the only things there were the empty, intertwined sheets and blankets that were normally wrapped snugly around the reason Blaine had reached over in the first place. It was only a second or two longer before Blaine's eyes fully opened and confirmed that he was, indeed, alone.

Just as curiosity began to creep up on him, his ears uncovered new evidence and his eyes soon followed suit: the faint sound of a steady beat and melody could be heard from the other side of the bedroom door, and beneath the same door shown a thin strip of dancing light.

Blaine glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table, which read 2:19 a.m. A sudden sinking feeling manifest itself in the pit of his stomach, but only remained for a moment. _Tomorrow's Sunday… no classes, no work, _he reminded himself with a deep sigh and a smile of relief. With that, he hoisted himself up into a sitting position, then reached blindly onto the carpeted floor of the almost-pitch-dark bedroom and picked up the grey t-shirt he had pulled off just before going to bed a few hours earlier. He pulled it on, adjusted the waistband of his boxers, stood up, and headed towards the bedroom door.

Quietly, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, revealing a dark kitchen and, just beyond, living room. The only light in the small but homey apartment came from the ever-shimmering windows, spots, and traffic lights of the city just outside the wall-covering Palladian windows, and from the medium-sized television screen in the living area. This, however, happened to be half-blocked by the slender silhouette of Kurt Hummel.

The nineteen-year old sat on the couch in front of the television, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow from the bedroom. As Blaine started to walk through the kitchen and to the other side of the apartment, he recognized the rhythm and melody of music as the powerfully nostalgic Simple Minds theme of _The Breakfast Club._ After that, it hardly came as a surprise that Blaine's eyes and ears agreed that the boy was crying quietly to himself.

Blaine's lips curved into the slightest of smiles. Of course, it was not Kurt's sadness that made Blaine smile. It was his emotion; the ease with which he felt it and the shamelessness with which he showed it. That was what made Kurt Hummel so extraordinary.

Blaine walked slowly to the back of the couch where Kurt was sitting until he was right behind the boy. Kneeling down, he gave a soft, "Hey there," before leaning in to kiss his neck.

Somewhat to Blaine's surprise, Kurt did not seem startled in the slightest. Without taking his shimmering eyes off of the screen, he tilted his head sideways, laying it down against his boyfriend's.

Blaine stayed where he was, enjoying the warmth of Kurt's shoulder beneath his cheek and the loving feeling of Kurt's head resting against his own. And they sat there, silently loving each other while John Bender thrust his fist in the air, for infinity. And for friendship. And for love.

_And for us, _Blaine thought to himself. He smiled, and breathed another long, contented sigh.

Soon, the screen went dark, and the music faded right into that darkness. Remaining motionless, Kurt switched off the TV with the remote control that his hand had already been resting atop. In no hurry, Kurt lifted his head from his boyfriend's.

Their eyes met, and Blaine could see the deep city lights reflected in Kurt's kind, compassionate blue eyes. These same lights also lit the boy's face in dim amber, making the tears on his soft, pale cheeks sparkle.

Blaine put one hand to Kurt's cheek and, with just a finger, wiped away a newly-fallen tear. He smiled at Kurt, and Kurt smiled back, beautiful even while silently crying. Without breaking eye contact, the boy whispered, "Sometimes… I just can't help myself."

"I know," Blaine smiled, "And I love it."

This made Kurt give a timid, watery laugh, eyes lighting up. Blaine got up and walked to the front of the couch, sitting across from Kurt and pulling the boy into a tight embrace. The two laughed quietly together for a moment, before slowly pulling apart.

Blaine took Kurt's two hands in his own, resting them on the pillow between the two boys who now sat pretzel style on the couch, one facing the other. He intertwined his fingers with Kurt's, then pulled them out again, then lightly stroked and caressed each finger, exploring Kurt's hands with his own as if memorizing them by touch.

"You know," Blaine began, eyes still on his and Kurt's hands, "John Hughes was a really incredible artist. But he was a little eccentric, even as a kid. And he was hard on himself, always pushing himself to do better. He pushed himself so hard once, that he destroyed every painting he ever did as a teenager."

When he finished his anecdote, he looked up at Kurt. The boy was eying him, a look on his face that was clearly and distinctly curiosity.

"He did?" Kurt asked.

"He did," Blaine repeated, nodding his head.

"That's…" Kurt allowed his eyes to wander for a moment, and Blaine watched as they picked up a reflection of bright blue from the sign of the _Highmark_ building in the city square outside. "That's really sad."

"Mmhm," Blaine replied, "It is."

Kurt brought his eyes back to Blaine's. "Why did you tell me that story?" he asked, sniffling a little and continuing to eye Blaine curiously.

"I…" Blaine paused for a brief moment. It wasn't so much that he _knew _why he told Kurt the story. It was more so that he _felt _why he told him the story. In that short pause, Blaine vaguely thought about how he could put the feeling into words.

"I see you, Kurt, all the time. But I'm not just looking at you. I'm _seeing _you. Like I saw you when I came in here, sitting alone, letting your feelings go… just letting them run free… and you're beautiful. And regardless of whether or not you and I are… you know… together forever, I never want you to think you're less valuable than the people who love you know you are. People like your dad, Carole, all your friends from high school, me…"

Kurt's lips were now quivering uncontrollably, and tears were leaving fresh pathways. And while the smile on his shaking lips was hard to see clearly, the smile in his eyes was clear as daylight.

"If ever your best doesn't seem good enough, Kurt," Blaine continued, "Don't tear it all down, literally _or _figuratively. It doesn't mean it's time to give up. It just means it's time to wait, grow, and then try again."

Kurt nodded, unable to speak. Once again he choked out a watery laugh, then wiped his eyes when Blaine said, "Come here," and pulled him into another hug. They held each other for a while, not caring how long they did.

"So," Blaine began, separating, "The sudden urge to get up at this hour and watch _The Breakfast Club? _Can't say that's ever happened to _me_, but okay," he joked.

"I just…" Kurt shook his head, as if having difficulty understanding himself as well. "I just wanted to, I guess. I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to _do_ something. I know most people would say that watching a movie isn't really _doing_ something, but with a movie like that, it is, you know? Because you feel like you're _there_. You understand them, you laugh with them, you cry with them, you… what?"

Somewhere along in the monologue, as Blaine watched Kurt in all his adorable antics, he just smiled.

And he didn't answer Kurt's question. At least, not with words. By some unspoken understanding, the two boys slowly leaned into each other, their lips touching in a gentle kiss.

Slowly they parted, each with his eyes closed and his breath having just caught in his chest. They opened their eyes at the same time, and Kurt began to whisper with a smile, "Back in high school, sometimes I would wish that my life was like an eighties movie. All the… romance, the honesty, the… magic… and then," he glanced away for just a second, took a deep breath, then looked back into Blaine's eyes and said without hesitation, "I met you."

Blaine would still swear to this day that at that moment, the skin on his arms and legs tensed into goose bumps while his heart jumped in happiness. He began to speak, then stopped and covered his mouth with his hand, realizing he had no idea what he was about to say. His hand finally dropped to his lap. "Well," he grinned, "Ours is certainly a Hughesian portrayal of teenage romance."

Kurt blushed happily – that sweet, crooked, endearingly goofy grin of Blaine's always made him do that.

Blaine stood up and extended a hand to Kurt who, with an amused smile, grasped it and stood up. "You asking me to dance?" he laughed.

"Sure, why not?" In one quick motion he scooped Kurt up into his arms, one arm under his back and the other under his knees. Kurt frantically wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck and squeaked in surprise, and this made Blaine laugh and _shush_ him at the same time, before carrying him over to the large, soft armchair that sat in front of the Palladian window. Both it and the small table next to it (on which there sat two framed pictures – one of the McKinley glee club and one of the Dalton Warblers – and an old-fashioned record player) were overcast in the same amber glow from the outside city lights that continued to be the only light in the apartment.

Blaine sat Kurt down in the chair before placing the needle of the record player on the vinyl and then switching it on. To his contentment, the dusty and occasionally-crackling yet soothing and classic introduction of Diana Krall's "Bye Bye Blackbird" began to play as he sidled into the chair, spreading his legs and pulling Kurt between them, then draping the boy's flannel-clad legs over his right knee and allowing the boy to place his head on his shoulder.

Kurt stirred in Blaine's arms and then quietly laughed to himself before saying, "This song isn't from the eighties, silly."

"Doesn't make it any less incredible," Blaine answered with a chuckle.

Kurt hummed softly in agreement. "To be honest though," he said, "Every time I hear this song I think of Johnny Depp in a gangster trench coat plotting murders or, whatever the heck he was doing in that movie…"

"He was plotting _robberies_, dummy, and that was a great movie, and way to go and ruin the romantic moment! Drop your last two sentences and John Hughes could have written you and me into a screenplay!"

Blaine slipped a hand beneath Kurt's t-shirt and began tickling him in the ribs, causing Kurt to squirm and fail at repressing yet another surprised squeak. Again, Blaine both laughed and _shushed_ simultaneously, to which Kurt responded with a light slap to the back of Blaine's head and a reprimanding, "You're the instigator!"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, I know, I know," he grinned, biting a knuckle to stifle his own laughter. Once the giggles had died down, the two sat for a few moments, simply enjoying the time spent wrapped up in each other. Blaine became aware that his hand was still beneath the fabric of Kurt's t-shirt, only now settled against the soft skin of his stomach. Almost without thinking, he began to run the tips of his fingers back and forth against the bare skin, sending pleasant shivers all throughout Kurt's body. He moved his hand to the boy's chest, blindly exploring all areas of it, again, as if memorizing it by touch.

"… Blaine…"

Blaine put a finger to his boyfriend's lips, then leaned in and began to kiss Kurt gently on the neck. Kurt, in response, lifted a hand and gripped Blaine's upper arm tightly, gasping as Blaine's teeth made just the slightest bite against the skin on his neck. Eyes closed, Kurt's hands found their way beneath the fabric of Blaine's shirt, and he wrapped his arms around Blaine's back, pulling their bodies closer together. It wasn't long before their lips found each other, touching selflessly and shamelessly in strings of kisses.

Kurt moved so that he was soon kneeling on the chair, one knee on either side of Blaine's legs, hands clasped behind Blaine's neck. In one, unexpected, swift movement, Blaine linked his arms behind Kurt and stood up, continuing to kiss his sweet pink lips while carrying him back into the bedroom and eventually laying him down on the mattress. In an instant, Blaine lay down next to him and the two were intertwined yet again, hands running up and down each other's arms, backs, and fronts.

Somewhere in the heated haze, their hands had clasped. When they realized that this had happened, they paused, looking at their tightly clasped hands, then at each other. Before they had even processed another thought, the two were holding each other tighter than ever in a hug on the mattress, Blaine stroking Kurt's hair with affection.

In a minute or two, they parted, then lay on their sides, facing each other on the mattress, their hands clasped tightly between them, just staring adoringly into each other's eyes.

"Blaine?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"You're so much more than a… a boyfriend… to me," he said, lips curving into a timid smile. "You're also my…"

Kurt paused for a moment, only to admire the attention, the care, and the love in Blaine's eyes, visible even in the dark bedroom. It took Kurt's breath away.

"… my best friend."

**Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!**


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